


Better Than an Alarm Clock

by DesireeArmfeldt



Category: due South
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canadian Blowjob Day, Challenge Response, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A morning blowjob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than an Alarm Clock

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Seascribe's [Canadian Blow Job Day Revival challenge.](http://ds-noticeboard.livejournal.com/1608739.html) Happy Birthday CKR!

It took Ray a while to figure this out, but Fraser doesn’t really like to be surprised when it comes to sex. He handles it great; he can take anything Ray throws at him, hit it back and do him one better. Which is no surprise, given Fraser’s ability to deal with craziness on the fly at any other time. And this is why Ray was slow to catch on. Fraser can deal with surprises, but what he actually wants is a chance to let down his guard, relax and focus on just one thing at a time, getting that one thing just right, really feeling it as deeply as possible. So he likes to know what’s coming. He likes Ray to use words, to make proposals or at least warn him in advance. Or he likes to call the shots himself.

Ray, on the other hand: he gets off on being surprised. Which maybe people wouldn’t figure, because Ray complains all the time about getting blindsided or ambushed or having the rug pulled out from under him, and sometimes he doesn’t know whether it pisses him off more when it’s perps doing it to him, or his partner. But the thing is, Ray just doesn’t like the kind of surprises that might get him killed or maimed or humiliated. When he’s safe in his own bed and that jolt of adrenaline means he’s about to get some serious loving: that’s a whole different ballgame. It’s like the difference between a car crash and a roller coaster.

Now, Fraser, who is people-smart and has made a serious art form out of understanding Ray in particular, gets this about him. And Fraser enjoys dishing out surprises, not that Ray’s ever gotten him to admit that. On the job, it pisses him off when Fraser withholds information or does unnecessarily crazy shit, but in the bedroom, it’s a bonus.

All of which explains why Ray finds himself swimming up out of a hot, hazy dream about mermaids and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation into bleary half-consciousness with arousal tingling through his limp body and coiling in his groin. His cock is wrapped in something warm and soft and wet and pulsing—someone’s mouth, yes, caressing him slowly but steadily.

There are fingers entwined with his, and that lets him know he’s safe, even before he’s awake enough to remember where he’s supposed to be. _Nothing to worry about_ , that hand—Fraser’s hand—tells him. _No emergency, nothing bad’s about to happen._ So he doesn’t struggle to wake all the way up and assess the situation. He lets himself drift as the feelings wash through him, slow and urgent at the same time, pulling him into a tight core of pleasure.

His body’s still heavy with sleep; he’s not sure he could move if he wanted to. He tries to squeeze Fraser’s fingers to thank him, to let him know. . .but he can’t tell if he really does or if he only imagines the movement. He feels his hips rocking—just a little, because Fraser’s firm hand is pressing him down into the soft sheets. His head rolls back and forth, like it’s not even part of him, and he hears his own voice making weird high noises, like a wounded animal. But he’s not embarrassed because it’s not him doing any of this, it’s all just happening to him, around and inside him. Ray is a flame, a star, a point of pure sensation, a rocket bursting into a shower of burning sparks raining down and dissolving into a warm pool of salt water.

And then he’s in Fraser’s arms, lying half on top of his hot, sweat-slick chest, his head bobbing up and down a little with Fraser’s quick breaths. He’s in no shape to make words, but he gives an appreciative grunt and gets back a sigh that sounds content and maybe also kind of smug. He fumbles a hand free and snakes it down Fraser’s body to give him some payback, even if it’s only a clumsy, half-awake handjob, but Fraser’s hand clasps Ray’s wrist, stopping him.

“Not now,” he murmurs in response to Ray’s questioning grunt. “I have a plan.”

Ray snorts into Fraser’s shoulder. Should’ve figured: Fraser always has a plan. Enjoying the prickle of anticipation, he snuggles closer and waits to see what happens next.


End file.
